Lonely Bar Nights
by RebelWade
Summary: Rollins finds herself in the middle of a love affair that never happened. EO. Season 13.
1. Chapter 1

**Set in season 13 during Rollins' first couple weeks.**

* * *

Amanda plops down on the bar stool, mentally and emotionally exhausted.

"Whatever's on tap," she tells the bartender, and he places her drink in front of her soon after. She takes her first sip, more in line with a gulp, and sighs.

"Long day?"

She turns to the voice was talking to her on the right. A middle-aged man sits a few stools down. He's older than her, graying, a receding hairline, but fit and attractive. She would be put off by him, but he didn't seem to be flirting, just… simple bar talk.

"Yeah," she replies. "Long day."

"Work?"

Amanda nods. "Started a new job recently. It's just… It can be a lot." She gives the man a friendly smile. "You? Long day?"

He nods as he looks at his half-empty beer. "They all seem long these days."

"Hmph," Amanda huffs. "Bad breakup?" she guesses.

The man smiles at the comment. "Something like that."

"I'm Amanda," she offers.

He looks up at her, lifts his drink as if saluting. "Elliot." He gestures toward the seat next to her. "May I?"

Amanda tilts her head to say yes.

"So," he says. "What is it about this new job that landed you in this bar, Amanda?"

"I don't know," Amanda says. "I knew the job would be tough, I expected that. But… There's this woman I work with who I really look up to. I've admired her work for a while now, so I was excited to get to know her."

"But?"

"But it turns out she's kind of a Grade-A Bitch."

Elliot laughs out loud. "I like your honesty," he says.

"I don't get it. Everyone _loves _this woman, but it seems like she snaps at everyone and everything around her."

"Sounds like a peach," Elliot quips.

She nods. "She's just not the woman I've heard about."

Amanda quiets for a moment, thinking through the last couple weeks. "Man, you should see her while she works, though. She's incredible… I mean, really _really _incredible. Not to mention she's a knockout. I could give you her number for when you're over your breakup."

Elliot chuckles a bit. "That's not necessary, thanks though. I, uh… I'm not looking." He holds his left hand up to show Amanda his ring.

"Oh, sorry… I thought you said… Or, I guess I assumed."

"You weren't _wrong_."

Amanda pauses a moment before she catches on. "Ah. An affair."

"No." It's an automatic response he has used for twelve years. But tonight, he hesitates. "Not quite," he corrects. "Not physically anyway." Amanda stays quiet, giving him space to talk. "I just retired, actually."

"Wow, congrats."

"Thanks… And a woman I worked with for over a decade, I uh, I didn't say goodbye to her. I _couldn't _say goodbye."

"You love her," she says.

Elliot nods, takes a sip of his beer. "More than anything… For better or worse."

Amanda watches as Elliot takes another sip, pain etched into every move.

"Just the thought of saying goodbye to her was already hard enough, but I also knew," he continues, "that if I did… if I'd said goodbye, if I'd gone to her… It would have gotten emotional and we would have…"

"You wouldn't have been able to say 'no' when I asked about an affair."

Elliot looks over at her and shakes his head suddenly. "Jesus, listen to me babbling on about my problems…Sorry, Amanda."

Amanda shrugs. "It's kind of nice to focus on someone else's issues for a change."

Elliot smiles and nods. "Where did you say this new job of yours was?"

"I'm a detective… Special Victims."

Elliot's lips slowly curve into a smile as he puts her story together. Eventually, he has to look away, laughing as he takes another drink.

"What?" Amanda asks. "Not a fan of cops?"

"No, no, that's not it," Elliot says. He gathers himself together and looks at her. "That's a noble work, Amanda."

"Thanks," she says, eyeing him suspiciously.

He stands, fishes a $50 out of his pocket and motions to the bartender. "Her drinks are on me," he says.

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"It's my pleasure. A small token of my thanks for all the victims you're going to get justice for." Amanda gives a heartfelt smile as Elliot starts to walk out of the bar, but he turns back after a few steps. "And Amanda?"

She looks back, her eyebrows raised. "Yeah."

"You never know what people are going through. Cut Olivia some slack."

Amanda nods, then her eyes widen as he leaves the bar, realizing she never told him Olivia's name.

* * *

Amanda sits in awkward silence with her Grade-A Bitch partner for the day. They've been on a stakeout for an hour now with no end in sight. Any question she asks Olivia or topic of conversation she throws out, Olivia shoots down immediately.

But she keeps wondering about Elliot, the man she met at the bar. She'd always heard about Olivia's partner by his last name… Benson and Stabler… but she wonders if it was him. How else would he have put Olivia's name together after she told him she was working at SVU?

"You go out much?" Amanda asks.

Olivia doesn't even flinch, just keeps looking out the window. "Not much."

Amanda rolls her eyes. Olivia makes this way more difficult than it has to be. "Never?" she says.

Olivia exhales sharply, annoyed. "Sometimes, I guess," she says. "We used to a lot more."

Amanda nods. "I got a drink at this bar a couple nights ago. It was actually the bar at the Marriott Hotel.

"Never been."

"Me either, but it was nice. Met this really kind man."

"No offense, but I'm not interested in your sex life, Amanda."

"No," Amanda says, exasperated. "That's not where I was going with that. He was just friendly, we talked. He told me about this woman… He was in love with her, but he was married to someone else."

Olivia huffs. "A man at a bar whining about his mistress? How cliché."

"Actually, they never acted on it."

Olivia rolls her eyes and looks back out the window.

"But I could tell he regretted it… never acting on it. Seemed like a good man… Moral. But his being _good _cost him the best thing he never had. It killed him." When her comment is met with silence, she continues. "I could tell he was lonely. And I've never seen so much love in someone's sad eyes. He said he left her, and he didn't say goodbye because he knew he wouldn't be able to resist her."

She tries to gauge Olivia's reaction, but her face is turned too far.

"Anyway, I walked by the hotel last night and saw him there again, drinking alone," Amanda says. "Guess he's just been on my mind."

Olivia's voice cracks when she speaks. "Why are you telling me this, Rollins?"

Amanda shrugs. "Just thought you'd wanna know." But she can't help herself, she has to ask. "You loved him too, didn't you?"

After a beat, "More than anything," Olivia whispers. "For better or worse."

Amanda sits back with a smile, remembering the exact same words from Elliot.

* * *

She watches his back for twenty minutes from the lobby before she goes into the bar. His head hangs low, only lifting to take sips of his drink. Her stomach in knots, her heart pounding, unsure of how he will react to seeing her.

Finally, she enters, fitted red dress hugging her curves as she makes her way to the bar and sits on the open stool beside him. "Gin, please."

"Liv…" Elliot says in shock before eyeing her outfit. He lands back on her face for a few moments before he realizes it. "Amanda?"

Olivia nods, then thanks the bartender when her drink lands in front of her.

They sip in silence.

"You could have talked to me," she finally whispers, her voice already straining.

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice low. "I needed to make this decision without you or I wouldn't have made it at all."

"And you just leave? Without saying anything to me?"

"I couldn't."

"Why?"

"Because every time I thought about it… I knew that I would have… that we would have…" He huffs, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

Her voice is barely audible. "Would that have been so bad?"

He doesn't dare lift his head to look at her. "No," he answers. "That's the problem, Liv. It… Dammit, if I finally let myself touch you, I'll never want to stop."

Her heart hammers in her chest at his words and she wants nothing more in this moment than just that—for him to touch her.

He looks up when she stands. "Liv, wait."

She digs into the pocket of her purse, pulls out two key cards, slides one to the bar in front of him. It reads, _Marriott Hotel Room 338._

She makes eye contact with him for the first time tonight. "If you don't show, I understand and respect that. But if you do…" She doesn't finish the sentence, just bites her bottom lip nervously. "Decision's yours."

* * *

**Option A or B for chapter 2? One's sad and angsty and one is raw and sexy. It's up to you, even though you won't know which one you're choosing. Take a gamble! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wowwowwow! I wasn't expecting such a huge response to this! Thanks for reading, friends! And no worries about the "Guest" post hating on the Rollins tag. The description explicitly identifies this story as EO. So… *Bye Felicia***

**I was planning on posting this chapter the day after I posted the first, but I got such a strong response to this that I wanted to revamp it a little to (hopefully) live up to expectations! Enjoy!**

**This story is now M. Proceed with expectant caution.**

* * *

She refuses to lose the confidence in her step as she struts to the room, but her legs feel like they could give out at any moment. She's already emotional—has been for weeks—and she has no idea what he will choose.

The muddled _tap tap _of her heels against the carpet grows louder in her ears with every pace, much like the growing tension of her partnership with every passing year. It was tolerable at first. She was still able to live a life outside of him, date, have relationships. But at some point, it shifted. There was an intensity between them that confused them to the point of ripping each other apart, hurting one another with purpose, but being unable to stay away, depending, needing.

The taps continue to grow louder, in sync with the rhythm of her heart, every beat of which she can feel pounding steadily in her chest.

Through the years, they grew older, wiser, and the tension grew into comfort, love, acceptance. They stopped fighting it and embraced it. It was nothing short of a professional marriage.

_Marriage. _

She winces at the thought as she enters the room and leans against the door as it shuts behind her.

For twelve years, she fought for his marriage, she fought for his happiness, the happiness of his family, denying herself a happiness of her own.

She walks to the window overlooking a busy Manhattan evening, leans against a small accent table.

_If I finally let myself touch you, I'll never want to stop._

Those were his words. _Finally, _he said, confirming what she thought she's known for years.

She's not the kind of woman to take another woman's man. She's not the kind of woman to allow her best friend to live with the guilt of cheating on his wife. She wants to say this isn't her, that if he comes to the room tonight, this isn't him either. They've proven that for twelve years. They've proven that they're better than this, above this.

But if she's honest, being with him is exactly who she is. Nothing will make her more _herself _than having him. Just once. One night.

Tonight.

Because he wanted a clean break, which she understands. So if she's never going to see him again, she needs this. All of him.

And if he doesn't come, she understands that too, and she'll live.

She always does.

The steady pounding of her heart stops with the click of the door. When she turns, he's already heading toward her. He doesn't stop to stare at her, talk, or debate, he just walks straight over to her, takes her head in his hands, and presses his lips to hers.

She moans into his kiss, returning it immediately, her body on fire the moment he stepped into the room. She reaches for the buttons on his shirt, desperate for any skin she can get her hands on. She undoes them as Elliot's lips drop to her neck.

He nips at her, his hands roaming her body, running up and down her sides, feeling her curves, grazing her ass before squeezing, groaning as he does. He pulls her closer and as their bodies collide, his erection presses against Olivia's stomach.

Her eyes roll back. _"Fuck," _she breathes. She pushes his shirt off his shoulders, lets her hands splay over his abdomen and chest, taking in the feeling for every time she has wanted to do this, every time she'll take the memory to her own bed at home. Her senses are on overdrive, and she can't stop her lips from tasting his pecks. She's memorized them with her eyes, but she needs to know the sensation, the touch. Her tongue follows, and she knows she won't be able to control a single thing she does tonight.

He's pulling at the straps of her dress, dragging them down her arms, and she didn't even realize that he had unzipped it. She gasps when she feels his tongue on her collarbone and she reluctantly parts from his body so Elliot can peel the dress down her body. When it hits the floor, she steps out of it and forward, desperate for contact again, but he stops her, holding her by the shoulders, arms-length away. She looks at his face then, and he's panting, breathless as his eyes look down over her body, scanning slowly. She wasn't wearing a bra in the dress, so she's standing in front of him in nothing but black panties and red heels. His eyes rake back up slowly, his hand meeting his gaze when they get to her hip and he curses, "_fuck," _as he drags his hand slowly up her body, across her stomach, her breasts, and up to her neck.

She can't wait another second or she might explode. As soon as his eyes reach hers again, she tackles his lips, undoing his slacks and letting them drop to the ground. Then they're on the same page because his hands land on her ass and she hops just slightly as he lifts her, her legs wrapping around his waist. She throws her head back, lets out a guttural moan when her core feels his cock, thick and hard against her.

He lands on top of her on the bed and his mouth is on her breasts in no time. She writhes in pleasure beneath him, but its not enough. She wedges her hand between them, pushing through the skin they refuse to separate, because she's seen, she's wondered, she's dreamed, but god, she needs to feel. She doesn't waste time touching him through his boxer briefs. Fuck that. She slips her hand through the waistband and he freezes completely when her hand wraps around him, warm and hard.

She breathes in deeply, suddenly feeling like she needs more air, and she tightens her grip, letting her hand move to feel the full length of him.

She toes her shoes off as she lifts his head back to her face, and frantically pushes her panties down. He gets the idea and helps her, tossing them to the ground. He removes his own underwear, then she pulls him in, whimpering at the feeling of him between her legs. His tip finds her warm and wet, and Elliot falls forward as they groan in unison. Elliot's head drops.

"I've wanted this for… _so _long," he whispers.

She nods, kisses his lips. "Me too."

"I love you, Olivia."

She closes her eyes as her chin quivers. "I love you, Elliot."

They moan again as he pushes into her, slowly coating himself with her wetness and he feels like his lungs are filling with lead. He pulls out, then pushes forward again, trying not to cum at the noises she's making, noises that have proven to be even sexier than the ones in his fantasies.

One more thrust and he buries himself inside of her.

_Finally_.

They exhale in unison, both taking in the sensation of their skin on the others, her breasts against his bare chest, her heat consuming his erection, just feeling. She drags her hands slowly from his ass, up his back, to his sides, his shoulders, slinks them to his neck, until she reaches his face. Then she moves her head and kisses him, just a peck, before she has to press her lips together tightly, fighting the sob that aches in her throat. She turns her face, drawing his to the other side so they lay cheek to cheek.

Suddenly she's not sure what's worse: never having felt this, or feeling it, knowing she'll never have it again.

It's when she feels his chest shudder on his exhale that she can't stop the tears, tears she knows are also wetting his skin. And if possible, she thinks she feels him harden even more inside her.

"We…" He has to pause, take a breath, then swallow. His head shakes just a bit. "We can stop if—"

"No… we can't," she interrupts. "I don't want to stop."

And that decides it for her. She can't _not _have him tonight.

"Elliot."

"Hm."

"When you've looked at me, thought about us… what have you wanted to touch the most?"

Elliot lets out small breaths of laughter, dips his head into the crook of her neck, almost like he's embarrassed. Caught.

"Your breasts," he answers. "Ass. Stomach… Legs."

She smiles as he continues to name body parts and she finds the hand resting by her head. She guides it to her lips first, kissing his palm before taking him lower, between them, flattening his hand on her breast. She nudges his head with her chin until she can get her mouth to his ear, not wanting him to mistake any of her words. "Touch me tonight, El. I need you to touch me the way you've wanted. Take me in the ways you've thought about taking me for twelve years."

With those words, he moves, pulling out and thrusting back into her as his hand squeezes and his lips open on her neck. She writhes immediately under him as he sets a fast, hard pace.

And all bets are off as he thrusts into her hard and fast, earning moans and an arched back, her hips meeting his as he fucks her like he's always dreamed.

She flips them, hands on his chest as she bounces on top of him, her breasts dancing freely above him. "You're so beautiful, Olivia." He feels like the words are cheap, like she hears it all the time, but it's the truth and he can't help it. "So beautiful."

She leans over and kisses him, their tongues needing enough of each other to make up for a decade of neglect. They part for air and his hands roam her body as she glides over his dick again and again. She breathes into his ear, and it's the most sensual thing he's ever heard. "You feel so good, El. So thick and hard for me. You have no idea how many times I've imagined your cock inside me."

His hands move to her hips and he stills her, holding her in place.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

He takes a few uneven breaths. "If you make any more movements right now I'm going to cum, and I really need this to last longer."

He pushes her hips up and off his cock, then he climbs out from under her, holding her in place, upright on her knees, before she can turn over. She doesn't feel much more movement so she looks back.

She smiles as she sees him admiring the ass he's ogled hundreds of times before. She turns back around and closes her eyes, reveling in the way he's worshiping her body and she'll let him do whatever he wants with it. She'll also give him images to take with him.

She reaches back and he scoots forward when he takes his hand. She turns her head so he can hear her. "Grab me here," she says, placing his hand on one butt cheek. She feels his cock twitch against her at the permission and she bites her lip. He grabs, palms, squeezes, his breath erratic. "Now bend me over."

_"Jesus…" _he breathes. _"Fuck."_

He places his free hand on her upper back and slowly bends Olivia over. Now both hands are on her ass, kneading.

Then, unexpectedly, she feels his tongue and she gasps. He laps at her core, penetrates her with his tongue and the vibrations of his moans as he eats her make her swell. His entire mouth opens on her, his tongue licking up her slit until he finds her clit and he circles it, strokes it with the perfect amount of pressure. She's moaning, cursing, and she's getting closer. He flips her over then, and she thinks he's going to enter her, but his lips are back on her clit, sucking. Her hands on his head and her thighs around his face, and she needs this to last, but she can't hold off anymore.

"Elliot, please!" She pushes him away and he climbs back up. "Cum inside me."

His eyes widen at her command and he pulls her up onto his lap so they're sitting as she slides over him. She loves this position. Intimate, loving, and stimulating in every way she needs it. She pumps herself over his dick as he helps her move her hips, their lips chasing each other's skin, coating each other in kisses until they're too far gone to do anything but feel the rush of blood sparking pleasure at their connection. They're moaning, louder as waves flow through them and she feels it unleash inside her. She holds onto him desperately as he screams, and another explosion in her core fills her with his release.

She kisses his shoulder as their breaths steady, their bodies held together. Her chest tightens again as she's overwhelmed with emotion and she squeezes her limbs, trying desperately to get closer, hold on tighter.

"I can't do this without you," she finally whispers, her throat strained by tears.

He huffs a laugh. Because it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. He pulls his head back to look at her, but she keeps her eyes closed as tears fall from them. "Look at me." He waits until she does. He takes in her messy hair, pushes a strand behind her ear. He's always wanted to see her like this: bare, vulnerable, undone. He's never seen her look more beautiful. "You _are _SVU, Liv. You don't need me. You never have." He watches as she shakes her head, tears continuing to fall. "Do you know how easy it is to replace a hot-headed, violent detective who cares too much?" he asks. "But you… the team needs _you_. The victims need _you._ Your perseverance." He kisses her wet cheek. "Your compassion." He moves to the other. Then his hand moves to her chest and he holds her necklace, then flattens his palm over it. "Your fearlessness." She meets his hand with hers on his chest, intertwines their fingers. Their heads fall forward and connect half way. "You've done more for victims of abuse than anyone I know. That unit is _you, _Olivia."

Her body shakes as she cries. "I miss you."

He nods, holds her close, his own throat tight as his words come out strained. "I'm so in love with you, Liv," he says. "So fucking in love… And I…"

She kisses him before he can say anything else. "I know," she tells him. "It's okay. I understand."

He leans them down, back onto the bed, kisses the tears on her cheeks, then proceeds down her body, refusing to leave one inch of skin unkissed.

* * *

She's been doing well. Four months since she last saw Elliot and she was able to move forward with that closure. She's back at the bar tonight though, and she shuts her eyes as she recalls their departure.

_They stand at the door of the hotel room, he's fully dressed, she's in a robe. "Go," she tells him. "It's okay."_

_No case to blame it on, no long nights going over surveillance footage or staking out a perp. No excuse not to go home. _

_They stand for a few moments, just looking at each other until Elliot finally starts a sentence. "Can I…"_

_Call? See her again? Stay? Whatever the end of the sentence is, the answer will be the same._

_"No," she says. She looks down, takes his hand in hers. "You were right to just disappear." She doesn't look back up, not while her chin is quivering. "We can't just… It would never work."_

_"Liv." He tries to tilt her chin up, but she brushes it away._

_"Please just go. Don't drag this out. Just…"_

_He uses both hands then, taking her face and bringing it to his, kissing her words away. "Okay," he says as he pulls back. Then before she knows it, his hands leave her face and the door is closing behind him._

The first few weeks were tough after that night, but less miserable than the weeks before it. Then she found her footing again. She's been thriving at work these days, befriending the new detectives, even found herself interested in other men.

But sometimes it would hit her, the ache of his absence. A memory or the way someone would casually mention him would make her feel like he was still there, then reality would pull on her chest for the rest of the day.

Today, it was a tradition that gut-punched her. One she would never get to enjoy again. It started six years ago when he and Kathy were separated. Olivia got particularly close to a case and was impossible to cheer up. Elliot went to her house often during those years, usually with drinks and takeout. That time, though, it was drinks and board games. They got drunk, and stayed up all night playing _Twister, Clue, Scrabble_, and it was the most fun either of them had in a long time. Elliot showed up the next year on the same day and declared it a tradition.

Until this year, that is.

"Olivia Benson?"

Olivia looks up. The bartender stands in front of her. "Yes?"

"This is for you."

The bartender hands her a manila folder, and at first, she's pissed that someone is bothering her with work while she's out on personal time. She begrudgingly takes the folder and opens it to a piece of paper stamped with COPY in red.

She reads the title: FINAL JUDGEMENT, DECREE AND ORDER OF DIVORCE

Her heart speeds up.

"Who gave this to you?" she asks, practically yelling at the bartender, now on the other side of the bar.

He smiles. "He said to look in the envelope again. And your drink is payed for."

She all but rips open the envelope for the other item and she's off her stool, almost running with the key card that reads _Marriott Hotel, Room 338._

When she opens the door, he's standing there with who boxes in his hands. "What's your preference this year? _Guess_ or _Trivial Pursuit_?"

Olivia marches forward, knocks the boxes out of his hands, and kisses him.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!**

**PS. Make of it what you will as far as timeline goes and whether or not Elliot was already in legal proceedings when they slept together. I'm against infidelity in real life, I promise. I'm around it a lot with co-workers and I find it disgusting. But I live for the drama of it in fiction. I've used both scenarios in my fics (see _Need _vs _Berlin Wall_) and I like to play around with both. I'm sorry if that offends some of you. Know that I respect your opinion of it even if I don't agree to it in writing.**


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